


First Queen

by farrah_yondale



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ableist Language, F/F, Original Character(s), zelimpa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farrah_yondale/pseuds/farrah_yondale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, when the Gerudo and Sheikah were one tribe and Zelda was not yet a queen, Impa held the Triforce of Power. (abandoned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Queen

_Most legends say the Goddesses left the Triforce whole, in the hands of the Royal Family so that it might be safe from evil's grasp. There are other legends, however, older legends, whispers of the Sheikah buried under ancient scrolls and tablets that tell of a different story._

 

Wind whipped at her scarf, unraveling it so that her face was now at the mercy of the desert sand. She flinched, eyes stinging with dust, grip tightening over the halter that held her camel. The four-legged creature brayed as she halted and wrapped an arm around her eyes, waiting for the gust to pass.

“Come, Rifah, we're almost there.” Impa tugged on the rope. Her companion, who had just experienced how good it felt to not move, was now stubbornly refusing to continue their journey. “Don't do this to me now, you useless animal.”

Rifah was accustomed to being called “useless” among a variety of other curses in their tribe's language, and he did not appreciate it. He let out another unbecoming noise and sat down, dishes and weapons on his back jingling.

“I swear by the Three, Rifah, this is why no one wanted to keep you.” The tribeswoman glanced down at the back of her hand, where a a golden Triforce was etched into her skin. “This thing is supposed to give me power, so please give me the power to command this stupid camel.” She slapped the triangle as if that might activate it and then grunted at her steed. “Fine. Stay here and die.”

Impa, being the leader of her tribe, knew exactly which words would get a child to stop crying, what advice to give to appease anxious parents and which whistles would call back which animals. She knew, as she stormed off into the sandstorm, that Rifah would come trotting towards her as soon as she disappeared from his sight.

“Look, there we are, darling,” Impa soothed, petting the camel's nose. “You can see the temple from here. I'm sorry I called you stupid and useless. But you know, you really do get on my nerves sometimes.”

Rifah blinked. Apology begrudgingly accepted.

The Temple of Nayru stood at the edge of the Southern Oasis, a three hour walk away from the nearest village and a day's journey to its booming center. It provided a stable environment for the priestesses who did not wish to be disturbed over trivial quarrels. As Impa approached the alabaster-white steps, she noticed it was much greener than usual. It must have rained recently. Otherwise, the temple usually stood amid sand and not much else.

“Grass!” Impa exclaimed, plopping face-first onto the soft green carpet. Rifah, clearly embarrassed by his master's childishness, began to wander far away from the tribeswoman so as not to be associated with her.

Impa, properly exhausted from her trek through the desert, did not bother to answer as the door of the temple creaked open. If she had taken the effort to open her eyes, she might have seen a graceful woman gliding barefoot onto the marble, deep azure gown trailing behind her.

“Impa,” she greeted as she reached the bottom step. “ _Dear_.”

The tribeswoman's eyes jarred open to the slightly annoyed face of a light-skinned priestess.

“Lady Sabina!” Impa answered, rolling on her belly. “How good to see you!”

“And you as well,” the woman sighed in a voice that obviously did not mean so. “Even with the Goddess's blessing, I still find you collapsed on my doorstep. Now, where is that oversized goat of yours?”

“Don't insult my camel.” Impa furrowed her eyebrows at the priestess, fingers tugging at the grass. “He wandered off somewhere. Apparently he's just as embarrassed of me as you are.”

Sabina 'hmm'ed. “I'm not surprised. Rifah is the most sensible creature in your tribe, if I were to hazard a guess.”

“And how could you say such a thing when you haven't met everyone in my tribe?”

“A tribe that would allow you to be its leader is clearly a tribe of fools.”

Impa merely laughed at that, throwing her head back with a type of carelessness a woman of her esteem should not have possessed. “All right,” she relented, moving to her feet. “Where is this Bearer of Wisdom? You mentioned a name I didn't recognize, which is strange because I thought I knew all of your priestesses.”

The head priestess gestured towards the temple's entrance. “Come inside, and we can speak.”

“Oh? You're inviting me inside?”

“Please, Impa, I have not lost all my manners. Even I know not to stand outside and speak in this unbearable heat.”

Impa followed the priestess inside, not bothering to conceal the relief the cool temple provided to her flushed face. She heard that throng she usually did when she entered the holy place, excited squeals and hurried whispers; the priestesses rarely entertained guests, so bringing in an outsider always led to unrest.

“Priestesses, please return to your duties.” Sabina's monotonous voice rang loud against the temple walls, causing a sudden silence.

“Surely, Lady Sabina, you can spare these young maidens one day off to enjoy themselves.” A few girls giggled at the coquettish note in Impa's voice. The tribeswoman grinned.

Sabina sighed. “Some things never do change, do they?” She turned her head away, apparently asking this question to the stained glass window to her right rather than Impa.

They entered an alcove where most of the priestesses sat and prayed. The only woman here, however, was standing. In her all-white gown and veil, she looked like any other lowly priestess.

“Zelda.”

The priestess named Zelda turned. Hands that were clasped in prayer returned to her sides. She took one glance at Impa and lowered her head in respect.

“Zelda, this is Impa. She's the Bearer of Power.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the priestess answered softy, avoiding eye contact.

Impa held her hand out for Zelda to take it, only to have the priestess stare at it in confusion. The tribeswoman let her hand drop back down, and replied, “And you as well.”

If Zelda had heard, she made no acknowledgment of it. She seemed less interested in formalities and continued to stare at Impa's hand.

“You have it, too,” she said, suddenly. “That mark. At first, I thought it was just some elaborate ruse from the Goddesses but now I see that must not be the case.”

“An elaborate ruse?”

Cerulean eyes quivered slightly under her gaze, before returning back to the less intimidating view of the floor. She did not answer, and for a great while there was silence, until Sabina broke it.

“All right, well, Impa I'm sure you're hungry. We can speak over a meal. Come,” she added to the hesitant Zelda. With a quick glance at the tribeswoman, Zelda rushed ahead to the head priestess, tugging slightly on the sleeve of her robe.

*

As soon as he felt the sting over his heel, he knew exactly what had happened.

The young man let out a slew of curses that would have made his sister cringe in shame. Speaking of which, he made a mental note not to tell her any of this, lest she take the opportunity to lecture him about walking out barefoot. Glancing around to see if anyone was nearby, Ganondorf punted the scorpion some few feet away in a half-hearted attempt at revenge.

He screamed another curse as the sharp pain radiated up his foot. He had suffered a countless number of scorpion stings throughout his life, but it never got any easier to deal with the pain.

Scorpion pain was the least of his worries, however, he thought bitterly, limping towards the collection of abodes on the horizon. Being first-in-command was so tremendously different from being second. He didn't have the finesse Impa had to deal with everyone's problems, nor did he command the same amount of presence. When Impa entered the room, everyone went silent; when Ganon entered the room, his sister would just make fun of him.

“Hey!”

It had only been a week and his tribe had already threatened mutiny. Apparently, he was so horrible at everything that Nabooru and a group of influential women had offered a five-year old boy to take his place. Ganon sorely regretted ever being snarky towards his leader.

“Hey!”

He sorely regretted a lot of things regarding Impa, actually. Like not asking her, _how did you deal with all the sarcasm? How are you supposed to sort out family problems when you've never had a family? How do you pierce a child's ear without leaving two extra holes in it because their parents are still upset with me?_

“HEY!”

It was the voice of Anarkali, he suddenly registered. They had been courting for a while now (and she had survived Nabooru's attempted seductions, which was a miracle. Ganondorf had lost track of the number of women his sister had stolen from him.) He had largely been ignoring her more and more as the week wore on. She was rightfully upset.

Also, _how did you manage to court someone while simultaneously dealing with everyone else's problems?_

“Have I snapped you out of your daydream yet?”

Having to endure sarcasm from his tribe was one thing. Having to endure it from his lover was another, especially given that she was normally quite sweet.

“I'm sorry,” he replied, his mind still half-occupied. Ganondorf had nothing else to say, so he just stood there, enduring Anarkali's intense glare.

She sighed. “Whatever.”

There was another beat of silence and then Anarkali said, “If you're free, just meet me...I'll be surrounded by camels as usual.” She started to trot off into the desert.

Ganon waited for her to be out of hearing distance before muttering to himself, “That went well—Ah!”

If Ganon were to take a wild guess as to who had just kicked him in the back, he would have to choose Nabooru. Sure enough, as he turned, he saw his older sister grinning up at him.

“What were you doing out in the desert, O Magnificent Tribe Leader? Meditating again?”

“I need at least a moment away from you, Nabooru. You know if I had to listen to your filth all day, my skull would probably burst.”

“Good. At least we could feed people with your dead body.”

Ganon opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by the croak of an old woman.

“If you children don't shut your mouths, you'll both be dead bodies within the evening.”

Elder Rasta had a tendency to appear out of nowhere at exactly the wrong moment, as if she were summoned by inappropriate remarks and rude gestures just so that she could make her own. The hand that was about to reach for his sister's throat slowly retreated back to his side.

“Well?” Ganondorf broke through the silence. “What tasks do you have for me now? Do I need to quell marriage anxieties for a young maiden? Or do you want me to pierce someone else's ear?”

Nabooru snorted a laugh. “I'm still amazed that you managed to ruin that poor child's ear so easily,” she snickered. “You'll have to teach me one day how to be that incompetent, cause that takes a lot of talent!”

“Well?” The tribe leader repeated to the Elder, ignoring his sister's failed attempts at muffling her laughter.

“Well, nothing,” Elder Rasta answered with a shrug. “You're free today. Actually, Nabooru finished the tasks you were supposed to do.” Nabooru's laugh came abruptly to a halt.

“I told you not to tell him!” she whined.

“If you had stopped that disgusting snort you call a laugh, I wouldn't have had to.”

Ganon left them there to argue. He thanked his sister silently, but right now, he had something else to attend to and headed in the direction where Anarkali tended to her camels.

“Hey.”

Anarkali was perched on a mound of sand overlooking the camels, chin tucked under her palm. She glanced down at Ganondorf.

“Hey,” she answered back. She shuffled a bit to the right as an invitation to sit down.

“Anarkali...”

“If you're going to apologize, don't bother.” Ganon hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should just leave or not at this point. Anarkali sighed. “Look, I...I didn't mean to get upset. I was just frustrated. I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

He felt her head sink into his chest, hand over the apex of his heartbeat. He received her warmly, pulling her in and cradling her head.

“I suppose we both owe each other an apology.”

“Yeah...” she agreed, turning her head to the side so he could hear. “It's just...you're all I've got, you know?”

“Yeah...I know.”

This wasn't so bad, he thought, Anarkali's breathing soft against his chest. Perhaps being tribe leader wasn't so terrible after all.

*

“I've had...a pretty good life, I think. My parents were good to me, my sister and I got along great. We got into a lot fights, though, usually over food...Oh, but we never went hungry. Went to bed every night with a full stomach, not like some people in this country, you know? I was pretty happy. I thought I was helping people by joining the army but...Twenty-seven years! Twenty-seven years I've been on this earth and only now did I think...did I see reality. And of course as soon as I do, I land up in here.”

Link concluded his musings with a huff and inclined his head to the rat next to him. The rat seemed more occupied with nibbling on breadcrumbs than focusing on the young man's life story, but perhaps the topic was too abstract for the creature to understand.

“Twenty-seven years is much longer than you or any of your friends would live, I should think,” Link continued. “What could a rat possibly—” He cut himself off as the door to the prison creaked open.

He heard metal tapping on metal, _tuk tuk tuk_ along the cells, slowing down to a stop once it reached his.

“Link,” a familiar voice whispered.

“Ravio?”

A young man appeared from his right, dark brown hair a mess over a smiling face. He cupped a clay bowl in his hands, which his slipped through the bars. Whatever the food was supposed to be (it looked like milk or maybe it was oatmeal?) swirled as he shoved it through, a few drops spilling as the bowl caught on the uneven floor. (“Oops,” Ravio said absentmindedly.)

“Hey,” he whispered again. “So is it true?”

“Why are you whispering?” Link replied at his normal volume. “No one's here, anyway.”

Ravio glanced around as if to confirm if what Link said was true. Satisfied, he repeated his question without the harsh whisper.

“You mean if I went against the General's word and screamed for everyone to stop the battle? Yes, that's true.” Link couldn't help but grin a little.

“Link, you rebel.” Ravio smiled back, tongue between his teeth. His face suddenly lit up. “Oh, yeah I slipped a nail file into your bowl so you could escape.”

“You what? Ravio...what?” Link had a stream of questions flowing in his mind, but “what” seemed to be the only way to encompass all of his confusion.

“People have escaped before. You know, slowly filing away at the bars till there's nothing left.”

“Ravio, why couldn't you have just given it to me? Why did you have to put in the bowl?”

Ravio was silent. Link sighed. But there was something else on his mind.

“Ravio, listen to me. We've known each other since we were kids, and you know I'd never lie to you. And I'd never do anything unless it was better for you, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, get out of the army,” his senior advised. “It didn't used to be so bad, but the Faronian army has been waging unnecessary wars lately. You'll be hurting more people than helping. Go back to our village and just take care of Ma, okay?”

Ravio's grin had fallen, but he seemed to understand. “Okay.” After a moment of reflection, Ravio spoke again. “I'll see you later, okay?” He stood up to leave.

“Yeah, okay.”

Link heard the prison door clack shut as Ravio left. He leaned back against the wall, bowl of whatever in hand. He thought of sharing with his rat-friend, but it had since left. More for me, then, Link thought, bringing the spoon up to his lips.

A wave of dizziness spread over him. For a moment, Link thought the food might have been drugged or poisoned. Maybe they had suspected his escape, or maybe Ravio (being stupid Ravio as usual) had picked up a nail file that was laced with some sort of intoxicant.

Link's bowl and spoon clattered onto the floor, the heel of his palms pressed down on the hard surface. A sudden weight dragged his shoulders down, and then he heard a voice—a man's? A woman's? He couldn't tell—sounding in his skull, as if it were coming from inside, rather than outside.

“It takes a great deal more courage to refuse a battle than to rush into one. True courage is doing what is just, regardless of the consequences. I now award you this, young hero, for displaying courage like no other of my disciples. You are the Bearer of Courage, Link of Faron.”

The weight dissipated like a fog clearing with the rise of the sun. Link felt a dull ache over his hand, and then saw a triangle grow dimly, and then more brightly, and then into nothing until all that remained was a faint outline of the Triforce.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeesh...this chapter is so long. I don't normally write this much, but I really wanted to introduce all the main characters within the first chapter. Don't expect long chapters from now on, though, okay?! Also, please bear with me on updates. I'm working on this in conjunction with End the Cycle, and I have my life to live, so it might take a while to do so.
> 
> If you have questions, comments, observations, whatever, I really love reading them, so feel free to write whatever is on your mind! 
> 
> Also I feel like my writing is sometimes a bit awkward or rushed? I'm currently in a non-English speaking country, so I've been having problems with English. I want to know if my writing/my English has really deteriorated or if I'm just being self-conscious. Thank you.


End file.
